Tacked on to 90 doggedly contested but generally undistinguished minutes, extra-time in this League 2 u-23 North-South semi-final erupted uproariously into a wildly fluctuating slugfest, during which all six goals were scored. The advantage swung decisively one way, then the other, then back again, with Charlton spectacularly overhauling a two-goal deficit to take a 3-2 lead into the final 30 seconds of a by then pulsating tie. Local hearts were broken when Jonathan Edwards headed home a last gasp equaliser from Greg Olley's soaring cross to set up what pundits have deemed the penalty shoot-out lottery.

Over regulation time, the Addicks were the more accomplished side and might have spared themselves their 12-yard ordeal had they taken even one of numerous chances. Chief culprit was Karlan Ahearne-Grant who twice failed to beat Tigers' goalkeeper Charlie Andrew in one-on-one confrontations. But it was Ahearne-Grant, whose pace and power alongside that of Brandan Hanlan, terrorised Hull's rearguard. Behind them, Anfernee Dijksteel's foot-on-the-ball class and George Lapslie's possession-winning tenacity made sure they were constantly at Hull's throat. Chance after chance was squandered which made even more impressive the sheer quality of Charlton's extra-time strikes.

Spirited City were hardly passive victims, as evidenced by the naming of home keeper Dimitar Mitov as indisputable man-of-the-match. The 20 year-old Bulgarian was outstanding, his saves from Will Annan's point-blank effort and Max Clark's volley the pick of a string of first half contributions. After riding his luck when Jarrod Bowen's ferocious drive almost splintered the bar, his amazing 90th minute instinctive reaction in keeping out an apparently sure thing from Johan Ter Horst ensured extra-time.

Mitov began his overtime shift with an elastic response to turn aside a clever overhead attempt from Edwards. From the resultant corner, unfortunately, his resistance was finally broken, with an unmarked Bowen making easy work of heading Daniel Batty's right wing delivery past him. And when Ter Horst dived to nod home Greg Olley's precise cross, Hull's all-Yorkshire final with Sheffield Wednesday seemed guaranteed. Until, that is, Charlton hit an irresistible purple patch.

Hanlan began the revival by cutting in from the left to thump a gloriously uninhibited right-footed drive inside the far post. With the deficit reduced and the scent of Tigers' blood in their nostrils, the Addicks drew level before the break. A crossfield driving run by substitute Alfie Doughty shredded Hull's resistance, with the talented stripling's perfectly judged pass sending Ahearne-Grant sprinting clear of Josh Clackstone to shoot across Andrew into the bottom right corner.

It was suddenly rousing stuff, which deliriously improved four minutes into the second period. A 68th minute replacement for Matt Carter, Regan Charles-Cook responded by unleashing an unstoppable, swerving strike from over 25 yards, which left Andrew helpless on its way into the top right corner.

Jason Euell's kids had apparently done enough to make the final but failed to seal the deal. Pressing forward in an enthusiastic but ultimately unwise effort to finish off their stunned opponents, they also offered them a way back into the contest. Sure enough, the gritty Humbersiders exploited their hosts' invitation to mix it by equalising with 30 seconds remaining of two added minutes. Olley produced another telling centre and Edwards, a daunting physical challenge for the more willowy Dan Bowry, gleefully made the most of it by heading effortlessly past a hopelessly exposed Mitov.

The penalty shoot-out was a crushing anti-climax, which proceeded routinely. Nine spotkicks were efficiently converted. To Charlton's chagrin, the first of them had already been tamely rolled into Andrews' hands by Charles-Cook, so lethal from twice the distance mere minutes earlier. Defeat for the young Addicks was a bitter pill but they swallowed it with enormous credit. There's a wealth of talent anxious to step up; Dijksteel and Lapslie, to name but two of them, could well be strutting their stuff in the first team next season. There are others, of course, not least that rubber ball in goal. It ain't all doom and gloom at The Valley. Because you've just gotta love these kids.

In circumstances which fluctuated between sullen resentment and occasional eruptions of pent-up bile, Charlton's laborious season crawled over the finishing line at High Noonon Sunday. Their easy victory over already relegated Swindon extended their unbeaten run to five games and completed their rise to respectable if stodgy mid-table respectability. A greater distortion of reality would be hard to imagine.

The 2016-17 campaign has, for Charlton, actually been a strength-sapping, full- kit route march across an endless, mud-churned No Mans Land. From its opening day when they rolled over meekly at Bury, on through sundry home humiliations by the modest likes of Wimbledon, Rochdale and Peterborough among too many others, their progress has been painful. Even the odd bright spot like Ricky Holmes' outstanding hat-trick at Shrewsbury was devalued by defeat.

Sunday's visitors Swindon were themselves responsible for a demoralising 3-0 rout in November while the only thing needed to complete the soul-destroying 1-0 surrender at Oldham three months later was the running-up of a white flag. The lower orders practically formed a queue to beat the Addicks while the depressing mood was hardly lightened by the dithering of Keith Stroud, whose craven refereeing robbed them of their first triumph over Millwall in two centuries. There were precious few peaks but too many troughs. Until, that is, they found the resolve to pull themselves together recently. Because it's only fair to acknowledge Charlton's belatedly positive reaction to the growing threat of relegation.

Both Southend and Gillingham arrived confidently at The Valley, needing victory for different reasons. Both were sent packing before a win and a draw on the road -in both cases against doomed opposition but there you go, you beat what's in front of you - dispelled lingering fears of demotion. When the chips were down, Karl Robinson's men delivered. The alternative was unthinkable.

On the end of foulmouthed abuse from pockets of detractors whose white-hot hatred in many cases seems based on nothing more than his broad Scouse accent, Robinson weathered the storm, clearly retained the dressing room and lived to fight another day. Unless he is betrayed by the club's singularly maladroit owner, as so many have been before him, he earned the time and space he needs to recruit and re-build a title-seeking side in the summer. It might be as wise as it is undoubtedly fair to give him a chance to sink or swim on his record after a full pre-season preparation. Unless it makes more sense to mock him behind a cloak of anonymity.

There was, meanwhile, the formaility of Swindon's wake to conduct on a pleasant Sabbath afternoon at The Valley, where Robinson named a side capable of settling a 3-0 score with the relegated Westcountrymen. Prominent among them was jaunty Player-of-the-Year Ricky Holmes, tipped to re-join his former Northampton boss Chris Wilder in the Championship at newly promoted Sheffield United but still a hard-grafting Addick for the time being. Persistently burrowing into the visitors' defence with customary determination, Holmes increased his goal total to thirteen with an instinctive second half finish applied to Nathan Byrne's short pass. His quickthinking shot caught Will Henry by surprise and nestled sweetly inside the right post before the flatfooted keeper could re-act.

Holmes' clever strike added to fine first half goals from Josh Magennis and Jake Forster-Caskey. Before the quarter hour, Magennis met Jay Dasilva's precise cross with an equally precise header beyond Henry's right hand. Two minutes before the interval, Forster-Caskey stabbed home a low cross from Dasilva, his second in successive games a timely response to his manager's call for more goals from the gifted midfielder.

The bitter memory of a freezing November day spent suffering in Wiltshire wasn't totally eclipsed in this funereal pre-May Day atmosphere but revenge is sweet, served cold or hot. Maybe next season the record will be similarly set straight with Bury, Rochdale and Peterborough, who yielded Charlton one point between them. Not exactly soaring ambitions admittedly but, trust me, you really had to be at all of those six games to understand where I'm coming from. It's not so much a mission as a grudge.

This report is dedicated to the memory of Dean Milner, a Nolan family friend and Charlton season ticket-holder, who died suddenly last Friday in his early fifities. "Gone alas... like our youth too soon".

Holding the fate of several relegation-haunted teams in their hands, among them Gillingham, Charlton did their noisy so-called neighbours no favours with this deceptively comfortable drubbing. This was the second of four games against doomed and nearly-doomed opposition which will put a merciful end to their own deeply troubling season. Think of it as the Addicks' "There but for the grace of God tour" (dated T-shirts and other merchandise available).

On Good Friday, it had been Charlton's unpleasant duty to administer the last rites to Coventry City. A diplomatic 1-1 draw at the Ricoh Arena allowed the Sky Blues to retain their dignity but officially consigned them to League Two. Next Saturday, their ministry moves to Chesterfield, where the all-but-mathematically condemned Spireites will be lowered down with similarly respectful ritual. A week later, desperate Swindon Town are due at The Valley to face relaxed hosts with a 3-0 score to settle and consequently little charity in their hearts. As the common denominator in the unpleasant business of relegation, Charlton will be expected to show compassion to the stricken and to avoid a crowing "better them than us" attitude. Yeah... right...good luck with that. This is football, an industry not burdened by selfless goodwill

Easter Monday visitors Gillingham competed with their hosts to be their own worst enemy. From as early as the second minute when Cody McDonald faced an open goal after being played clear by Lee Martin's astute pass but shot lazily into the sidenet, to the embarrassing air-kick applied by McDonald to substitute Josh Parker's cross just past the hour, their finishing was comical. Martin made his own contribution by blasting the loose ball created by McDonald's clumsiness into the away stand. In between the stand-out misses, the Gills were almost at pains to avoid the target, not least when McDonald and Joe Quigley impeded each other in their anxiety to convert Martin's cleverly dinked cross from the right byeline. One of them headed it wide.

In stark contrast, Charlton for once made the most of their chances. On the end of the first of them, Jason Pearce comprehensively outjumped Quigley and Deji Oshilaja before unstoppably powering Ricky Holmes' right wing corner past Czech keeper Tomas Holy. Pearce's first goal for the club was riotously received and swells to nine the useful total provided by centre backs.

While the breakthrough was still being celebrated, an all too familiar lapse by Ezri Konsa almost nullified the Addicks' advantage. Caught dawdling in possession, his error allowed McDonald brief sight of goal before the striker tumbled dramatically under Patrick Bauer's recovery tackle. McDonald was almost sheepish in his appeal for a penalty and was booked. The talented Konsa will no doubt be invited, meanwhile, to explain his recent lack of due care and attention on the ball. He needs to avoid risks and sharpen up.

Just past the half hour, Holmes reacted to the mini-controversy by doubling Charlton's lead. Outstanding left back Jay Dasilva's determined run was halted by Max Ehmer's crude challenge, for which the German defender was booked and which set up Holmes in his favoured free kick position to the left of goal. From 25 yards, his sumptuous delivery dipped sweetly inside the left post to put clear daylight between the teams.

Any prospect of a Gillingham rally was ruthlessly quashed ten minutes after the break, with the irrepressible Holmes again at the heart of the action. His meandering run from right to left, during which he occasionally considered shooting, brought him close to the left byeline, along which he squeezed a pass to Jordan Botaka. An instinctive feint by the Congolese international wrongfooted Gillingham's rearguard and allowed Josh Magennis clear sight of a gaping goal into which the burly target man casually sidefooted the Addicks' third goal.

While cruising routinely to only their 12th win of this nightmarish season, only unsighted Declan Rudd's fumbling of Rory Donnelly's free kick caused brief consternation. Even then, a posse of Rudd's alert colleagues spared his blushed by mopping up the danger and preserving a rare clean sheet. Nothing was to be allowed to mar a singularly satisfying bank holiday.

So there it is, two more games to complete before the summer re-building, both in personnel and hopefully attitude, commences. Until the regime changes, the same divisiveness will fester but some respect for the manager is overdue. Only with an uninterrupted pre-season behind him can he be fairly judged, not that fairness has much to do with this schoolkiddish mangling of his name. Boycotting games is unreservedly everyone's right, one I'll defend rigorously so long as I don't have to hear it trumpeted as some kind of badge of honour. And as for hoping Charlton lose so you can feel somehow vindicated...do leave off. Winning is all it's ever been about. My cockles are still warmed by memories of the time we won the Evening News five-a-sides. I recall the diamond system was used to irresistible effect.

Still in need of a point or two to guarantee survival in League One, Charlton edged closer to safety with their eighteenth draw this term, no fewer than 13 of which have employed a jaw-dropping 1-1 formula. With just three games left before a merciful veil is drawn over a pinched, parched, plodding campaign, there has been little to celebrate and much to deplore along the way. The end of a sorry season can't come soon enough for most of its thoroughly worn out principals.

In saving themselves - or as good as saving themselves, given the remote mathematical equations still hanging over them - the Addicks simultaneously lowered the boom on Coventry City, whose failure to win this game confirmed their relegation to League Two next season. Beset by inner strife, weakened by civil war and haunted by the lurking threat of extinction, this shambles of a once-great football club slipped mutely to its fate, hastened there ironically by equally shambolic visitors who are going through a period of similar self-harm. This was another example of the lack of sentimentality in football, where dog eats dog and wastes little energy in regurgitating an apology. It's how it is, take it or leave it. Duly warned, most Charlton fans will gratefully take it, many of them through gritted teeth.

Winners of five of their last six games, the Sky Blues had left it too late to stave off the inevitable but they gave it an honest go. Playing with a freedom which belied their desperate plight, they buckled down cheerfully after a ten-minute delay caused by a pitch invasion of plastic pigs (some of them veterans of a similar porcine protest at The Valley earlier this season) and gamely took the fight to Charlton.

Sparked by young winger Jodi Jones, who began an enterprising contribution by jinking infield from left to right before forcing a diving save from Declan Rudd, the Midlanders clearly intend to depart League One with a bang not a whimper. But they should have fallen behind minutes later when Nathan Byrne headed Jay Dasilva's precise cross against the crossbar. Though not exactly renowned for his aerial ability, Byrne should have buried the chance. And Josh Magennis might have done better with the rebound than blast it over the bar. Naturally, the Addicks were made to pay for their waywardness.

The immediate danger which loomed when George Thomas slipped past Dasilva, then advanced along the right byline was temporarily checked by Jason Pearce's alertness at the expense of a corner. But Ruben Lameiras' short delivery found its way from Jordan Turnbull's lucky deflection to Thomas, who converted the gift from 10 yards.

Before the interval, further saves by Rudd, first from Gael Bigirama's long distance piledriver, then by plunging to his left to tip Jones' accurate shot past a post, kept Charlton in touching distance. Duly encouraged, Magennis shook off two defenders moments before the break, prodded an improvised shot goalward but was foiled by Lee Burge's legs at the keeper's near post.

Rudd continued his defiance in the second half, an outstanding block confounding George Thomas in one-on-one confrontation. One minute later, his side was level. Switching flanks regularly, Ricky Holmes attacked down the left and earned a corner off Farrend Rawson. His inswinging delivery was nodded on by Magennis and headed firmly under the bar by Patrick Bauer.

The instant replacement of a deeply disappointing Ezri Konsa, reputedly the next cashcalf on his post-season way out of The Valley, by Jake Forster-Caskey, increased Charlton's prospects. Too often caught dawdling in possession, Konsa needs to recapture the urgency he showed when he first broke through from the academy.

The pick of Rudd's string of fine saves, meanwhile, his latest a quite magnificent effort to foil Jones' drive at full length, kept the scores level. At the other end, Burge matched his excellence with a similarly athletic response to Forster-Caskey's full-blooded effort. And so it ended 1-1. Just like we knew it would. Don't knock it. 1-1 kept Charlton up.

There's more than one way to lose a football match. There's losing and then there's...really losing. It's no disgrace, for instance, in going down to a better team, provided you leave every ounce of effort behind you on the pitch. It happens, even to the likes of bland, colourless MK Dons. You deal with it, heal your wounds and press on to the next hurdle.

But when you've been not only outclassed and outfought but dismissed with almost contemptuous ease by ordinary opposition like Buckinghamshire's finest (not too much competition there, granted), there's real cause for concern. Especially when you've capitulated with barely a whimper.

This 2-0 rout sent an apprehensive shiver through a Valley all too briefly united in memory of Keith Palmer. For if one setback brought home the very real threat of relegation, look no further than this one. Charlton were individually lightweight, collectively abject, totally awful. Only favourable outcomes elsewhere spared them further damage (cheers, Millwall, best of luck at Gillingham on Saturday, by the way... you can safely leave Southend to us). They say you shouldn't rely on other results to determine your fate. Well, that's true but that's all the Addicks have going for them lately. Should they avoid the drop, they might be said to have backed into safety. They're certainly not doing it by themselves.

This defeat by the Milton Keynes franchise featured several depressingly familiar ingredients, most significant among them the concession of an early goal, one in each half on this woebegone occasion. Just seven undistinguished minutes had pottered by when teenaged Leicester loanee Harvey Barnes, a rare handful for Chris Solly, collected George Baldock's inconclusively cleared cross before trying his luck with a crisp snapshot. Already moving to his left, Declan Rudd adjusted athletically to a treacherous deflection, managed to keep it out as it headed inside his right post but could do little to stop Stuart O'Keefe from burying the rebound. With their own recently paltry scoring record, falling behind is disastrous for Charlton. As so it proved again.

Their initial reaction was mildly promising. Good work on the left by Joe Aribo set up Ricky Holmes to jink in from the right but his low drive whizzed harmlessly wide. Skipper Johnnie Jackson's brave block of Ed Upson's close range blockbuster provided the right kind of defensive example, with Solly showing the same kind of grit to smother Barnes at even closer range. The visitors were never less than comfortable, though, as the first half meandered along without incident. Josh Magennis' long range strike disappeared into Lee Nicholls' midriff but Charlton's output was otherwise powderpuff. Twelve minutes after the break, any faint chance they had was blown away by Dons' second goal.

Having easily won a midfield tussle with Tony Watt, Upson moved into the home half and found Barnes out wide on the left flank. Dribbling straight at Solly, the youngster cut inside and placed a low right-footed drive across Rudd and sweetly inside the far post. You could say his goal technically sealed the issue but Charlton's was already a lost cause. So too is this season unless they pull themselves together. It's later than they think.

There wasn't a whole lot more to report from this routine defeat. Trust me, I've written it all too frequently this miserable season. And unless you've lost interest along with your will to live, both of which I'd entirely understand, you've read it as often. In reaching for something positive, I offer the fact that substitute Kieran Agard hit the post late on and thereby failed to dent a goal difference that might yet save the Addicks.

Salvation -that's what it's all about right now. That might disappoint those among us who view relegation as a useful lesson for the club's brass to learn. As Tommy Edwards so memorably crooned all those years ago, "Many a tear has to fall...but it's all in the game."

Tommy was talking about love, not football, but poor bloody infantry like me can do without tears from any source. I prefer my nose set squarely in the middle of my face because the spectre of League Two frankly scares and depresses me. Mind you, there's always Accrington. Never been there. Nah, belay that, I'll still pass. So c'mon you Lions! We''ll get by with a little help from friends like you.

Exactly three months ago, Karl Robinson began his troubled tenure as Charlton manager with an awkward pre-Christmas trip to Bradford. With his squad already decimated by an inconvenient virus, he was served a further ominous warning of what lay ahead for him when key centre back Jason Pearce succumbed to a serious groin problem after barely two minutes. Hindsight informs us that a 0-0 draw, under difficult circumstances, was a reasonable start for the Mouth of the Mersey.

Regularly handicapped by a series of long term injuries, Robinson possibly viewed as routine the loss, for this reverse fixture, of Ezri Konsa, Joe Aribo and Nathan Byrne from the line-up which had gamely grabbed a point off Walsall three days previously. As no doubt he reacted philosophically to the second half departure of left back Lewis Page with what might be a season-ending ham string strain. The loquacious, likeable Liverpudlian has become adept in papering over selection dilemmas.

For no valid reason other than apparent spite, Robinson has been a non-stop target for white-hot hatred from anonymous snipers on social media. As a Scouser, it goes without saying that his garage is crammed with hub caps and his wallet stuffed with giros. Or so the vicious old slur goes. He's heard far wittier insults on Scotland Road and it's clearly not his fault that it's practically impossible to buy the Sun up on Merseyside.

In preparing to face high flying Bradford, the still-new boss was relieved to welcome back from brief absences Patrick Bauer and Jake Forster-Caskey (on the bench). And with Pearce due to return soon, he'll be spoilt for choice, not a luxury he has enjoyed to date.

Still in contention for automatic promotion and losers just five times this season, City's challenge has been hampered by a remarkable total of 17 draws, one more than Charlton have managed. Unsurprisingly, this entertaining, end-to-end encounter ended all-square and even less surprisingly finished 1-1, the twelfth time the Addicks have shared that scoreline.

In a classic game of two halves, a cliche but an accurate one in this case, Charlton toiled through the first period, scored against the run of play but were pegged back before the break. Faster from the blocks, the Bantams controlled the opening exchanges, with Romain Vincelot's shot dipping narrowly wide, Tony McMahon firing inches over the bar and Nathaniel Knight-Percival heading lamely off target after McMahon's free kick was nodded back from the far post by Rory McAardle. The visitors seemed on the point of breaking through when instead they fell behind.

Doing his usual wholehearted bit, Ricky Holmes was fouled by James Meredith and delivered the free kick from the left. Lee Novak made a nuisance of himself, Bauer knocked the loose ball down and Jorge Texeira, always a threat from setpieces, drove firmly into the top right corner.

The lead lasted only seven minutes. A constant thorn in Charlton's side, tricky left winger Mark Marshall moved inside to try his luck right-footed from inside the penalty area. Possibly unsighted, Declan Rudd fumbled the crisp shot, leaving Timothee Dieng to make unduly heavy weather of squeezing a point-blank header in off the right-hand post.

The second half belonged to the Addicks, with a string of missed chances marring a stirring rally. Andrew Crofts launched the one-sided process by volleying over the bar before Novak failed to make sliding contact with Holmes' fiercely struck low cross when the merest of touches seemed enough. Novak's deflected effort fell to Tony Watt but Saturday's scoring hero sliced wildly wide. The pressure was maintained with Fredrik Ulvestad, restored to midfield following his outstanding emergency stint at centre back against Walsall, curling a shot dangerously wide,

Charlton's clearest chance fell to Texeira, who was picked out by Holmes' free kick, awarded for Knight-Percival's crude trip on Watt, but headed firmly into Colin Doyle's hands. Another foul on Watt, this time by Meredith, gave the indomitable Johnnie Jackson an opportunity to crown another fine 90-minute contribution but the skipper's 25-yard free kick clipped the bar on its way to safety.

Yet another draw then, not enough to confirm immunity from relegation but one providing further evidence that the Addicks are improving steadily. Like the surfer's search for the perfect wave, the evenly balanced matching of pleasing performance with effective result continues to elude Robinson. But he's getting closer. Maybe next season...

For the second, consecutive week, Charlton grabbed an early lead, again provided by Ricky Holmes, protected it capably for over 80 minutes but paid the price for spurning chances to consolidate their advantage. Four minutes of added time proved too big a burden for them to bear, with powerful striker Tom Elliott equalising superbly half way through the extra allowance.

With a bench devoid of outright defenders, a problem complicated by injuries to Harry Lennon and Jason Pearce plus the suspension of Lewis Page, Karl Robinson's colours were necessarliy nailed to an aggressive mast. All three of his second half substitutes were attack-minded, with debutant Stephy Mavididi particularly impressive on the left. The newcomer's brief cameo offered promise for the future but foot-on-the-ball calmness rather than hell-for-leather aggression was what the increasingly fractious circumstances demanded.

Flooding forward in their anxiety to finish off the Dons, too many Addicks were caught upfield as their hosts, with nothing to lose, broke quickly. A long clearance was headed on by Lyle Taylor for Elliott to turn sharply to the right of Declan Rudd's goal and dispatch a fine drive across the helpless goalkeeper into the far bottom corner. The scorer promptly marred his own and Wimbledon's joy by picking up a second caution for over-celebrating, not that the frustrated Robinson will be consoled by his boneheaded dismissal.

Starting brightly, Charlton crowned their early superiority with a fine opening goal. Chris Robertson's crude foul on Joe Aribo conceded a free kick, which Holmes bent expertly beyond James Shea's grasp into the top left corner from over 20 yards. They immediately threatened to double their lead but the irrepressible Aribo's shot shaved the wrong side of the post. Novak's tame volley into Shea's hands and Ezri Konsa's low angled effort saved capably by Shea continued the Addicks' domination as Wimbledon slowly settled. Left back Sean Kelly's low cross zipped unmolested across goal shortly before the interval but the first half belonged to the South East Londoners.

Ten minutes after resumption, Novak squandered an outstanding opportunity to put daylight between two tetchy sides. Put through with only Shea to beat at the end of Aribo's electric burst, the experienced forward shot into the near sidenet when a finish to the far corner seemed a more promising option.
Co-striker Tony Watt, sporting an alarming, Devil's Island convict haircut, was far more accurate after cutting in from the left to unleash a piledriver which Shea saved magnificently high to his left hand. A goal would have capped an excellent stint by the nomadic but undeniably talented Glaswegian who, deployed wide of Novak on the left, worked tirelessly up and down the touchline in both attack and defence. The 57th minute return of Josh Magennis in place of Novak suggested that their partnership might be Robinson's preferred choice up front.

Charlton's manager, meanwhile, had been the target throughout a bitterly cold afternoon of unremitting abuse from home fans who used his connection with MK Dons as a licence to use the kind of language guaranteed to frighten the horses. Surplus to a bulging press box and kindly positioned instead among the locals in the front row by jack-of-all trades Laurence Lowne, your low-profile reporter was ideally positioned to share a stirring pre-kickoff tirade from a grossly overweight, spectacularly spotty anti-hero. He had given Robinson a filthy piece of his mind, apparently, and had received no response from his supposedly cowed victim. You're invited to write your own version of events had Mr. Blobby and the big Scouser actually clashed in non-virtual reality. Likewise the gobby prat of a steward who confronted Robinson at the final whistle and will presumably be handed a P-45 for his pains. Mind you, the loquacious boss is used to it. He regularly runs a gauntlet of hatred from his own supporters at The Valley and on various websites. From limited contact, admittedly, he seems quite a likeable chap to me but to each his own.

Back briefly to the football, though, where the crushing disappointment of four points mislaid in added time collapses throws serious doubt on Charlton's chances of making the play-offs. Nothing short of six points from back-to-back trips to Lancashire to face Oldham and Rochdale will now be acceptable. It's probably too much to ask but hope is the last refuge of the desperate football supporter. And hope is all we -and Charlton - have left.

It's safe to suppose that the appointment of erratic Keith Stroud to referee their derby dust-up with Millwall hardly imbued Charlton with confidence. Mind you, the Lions were probably not too thrilled either. Stroud operates an equal opportunities policy of incompetence for all. He is also a self-righteous klutz who compensates with outraged moral authority for an alarming inability to complete a game without leaving controversy in its wake.

To be fair, Stroud had his hands full in controlling a game simmering with barely concealed malice while low on quality. The seven bookings he meted out were deserved and the red card he issued to Jorge Texeira after the final whistle followed the letter of the law. But his glaring incompetence around the hour mark effectively deprived Charlton of what is fast becoming a collector's item - victory over Millwall - and quashed their hopes of adding to their frankly embarrassing total of 11 wins in 71 previous league meetings.

Having dealt capably with Joe Aribo's corner, young keeper Jordan Archer hustled to the edge of his penalty area with Patrick Bauer as close but inoffensive company. Possibly distracted by Bauer's attentions, Archer simply dropped the ball as he prepared to clear out of his hands. Without pausing to look the gift horse in its mouth, Bauer planted his present in a gaping net, at no time touching Archer. Stroud dithered, then dithered again before presumably concluding that some sort of foul must have occurred. A perfectly valid goal was disallowed for no reason other than the weakness of a notoriously unreliable official.

Incandescent with resentment, Karl Robinson arrived for his post-game press conference armed with laptop evidence which incontrovertibly proved Charlton's case. The press corps was invited to view CCTV of the incident which established that a robbery was committed and its perpetrator was Keith Stroud. Technology had him bang to rights and the least he should do is apologise. Charlton fans are advised not to hold their breath until he obliges.

The injustice served on them was in keeping with an afternoon during which anything that could go wrong duly did go wrong. After just 14 minutes, they lost Josh Magennis to an ugly looking ankle injury; the same length of time brought the premature departure of debutant left back Lewis Page, to be replaced by fellow debutant Jay DaSilva. Robinson's game plan was hopelessly compromised and he was able to risk Ricky Holmes, newly returned from injury, for just 10 minutes. As one door closes recently, another also closes.

The chances in a scrappy, dour game largely belonged to the visitors, whose poor finishing contrasted vividly with the clinical goals which did for the Addicks at the Den before Christmas. Their opportunities were bookended by Lee Gregory, who lobbed over Declan Rudd but wide when sent clear by Tony Craig in the sixth minute, before glancing Shaun Williams' precise free kick off target shortly before the end when scoring seemed an easier option. Combative co-striker Steve Morison did manage to beat Rudd but his feebly topped effort proved easy for an off-balance Texeira to scrape off the line, with Shaun Hutchinson heading the emergency clearance back into Rudd's arms.

As Charlton tired, the visitors began to look ominous. Substitute Shane Ferguson tore on to Morison's knockdown but with a left foot much vaunted by his manager Neil Harris sliced his shot horribly wide. Hutchinson followed by wastefully heading Morison's cross past a post.

In response, Robinson's unfamiliar side failed to seriously trouble Archer, a bouncing volley from yet another debutant, Nathan Byrne, representing their best effort. A second drive from Byrne tested Archer but the Addicks seldom looked like scoring except, of course, they actually did score but fell foul of nemesis in the discouraging shape of referee Stroud. Tony Watt had replaced Magennis to a rousing reception which the original Prodigal Son might have envied but after a bright start faded into near invisibility. Charlton's stubborn resistance was instead inspired by midfield fulcrum Andrew Crofts whose insatiable hunger for possession and intelligent distribution kept his side ticking. Notable contributions were also made by Adam Chicksen, who slotted competently into left back as deputy for Page and Ezri Konsa, whose occasional lapses into casualness were forgiveable flaws in an otherwise mature performance. And let's not overlook the always dependable Chris Solly, who added to his usual impeccable game, a willingness to mix it physically with opponents twice his size.

Already struggling with the lengthy absence of several key players since taking over at Charlton, Karl Robinson faced fresh problems in naming his side for this difficult New Years Eve assignment by the seaside. Injured skipper Johnnie Jackson was unavailable while teenage sensation Ademola Lookman was forced to withdraw due to "illness", a sudden virus which is expected to also rule him out of Monday's home game against Bristol Rovers. You just can't mess around with these mysterious bugs, which waft in on the draft caused by transfer windows being carelessly left open. Rest is the only cure.

Lookman is apparently on his way to Everton, where rumours that he's been guaranteed a first team place should be taken with a large pinch of salt. Hardened old codger Ronald Koeman is unlikely to be buffaloed by a promising kid's agent into such a foolhardy commitment. More probable is a place in the Toffees' U-23 side, with appearances in Cup competitions an occasional sop. More than one aspiring hotshot's career has atrophied in similar circumstances because you know what George Gerschwin had to say on the subject...fish gotta swim... birds gotta fly... footballers gotta football. Let's hope the money makes it worthwhile.

At left back for the Addicks at Roots Hall, meanwhile, was Morgan Fox, currently linked with a move to Sheffield Wednesday. Responsible pro Fox had typically resisted the germs which laid Lookman low and gamely put himself on the line for the usual hate-filled garbage he receives regularly from the anonymity of the stands. It drove Simon Francis from The Valley but he did pretty well for himself elsewhere. The intrepid Fox will leave with not so much as a backward glance at his faceless tormentors. As with Francis before him, the last laugh will more than likely be his.

The vacuum left by Lookman's inevitable departure was promptly filled by the latest cab off the Sparrows Lane rank. Up stepped Joe Aribo at Southend to mark his first start with a man-of-the-match performance. An impressive blend of industry and skill, he worked tirelessly at both ends of the field, never allowed his head to drop and supplied the last gasp assist for Andrew Crofts' dramatic equaliser. By which time he had been joined from the bench by subs Karlan Ahearn-Grant and Josh Umerah to give the Addicks irresistibly youthful momentum as the increasingly desperate Shrimpers wilted.

Twenty minutes from time, Aribo had cut in from the right to beat outstanding goalkeeper Ted Smith with a deliciously curled shot which heartbreakingly rebounded back off the bar. At the time, it seemed possible that we'd seen Charlton's best chance come and go but Aribo was having none of it. Driving powerfully into the home penalty area, he picked up a shrewd pass from Jordan Botaka, another high-impact substitute, and crossed hard and low. Meeting the ball inches above the turf, skipper Crofts buried a volley off the underside of the bar and into the net behind the valiant Smith.

On an early afternoon of lusty shooting, Stephen McLaughlin provided the first spectacular strike, with a 30-yard stunner which whistled inches wide as Dillon Phillips scrambled helplessly across his line. Josh Magennis replied for the visitors by spinning on to Crofts' pass to bring Smith down low to his left to save his firm drive.

Midway through the first half, prolific striker Simon Cox combined accuracy with power to fire United in front. Picking up the ball with back to goal as Wordsworth's corner was headed clear by Ezri Konsa, he skilfully disguised his intentions from the shadowing Magennis before turning sharply to place a vicious left-footed shot beyond Phillips' groping left hand. Before the interval, Fox cleverly slipped Aribo in to sting Smith's palms with a rising effort while, in an absorbing duel of young keepers, Phillips responded with a fine save from Anthony Wordsworth's corner- bound effort.

Resuming with added purpose, the Addicks began to take over. Magennis' pass set up Ulvestad to shoot wide, then Nicky Ajose's free kick, following Michael Timlin's foul on the persistent Aribo,was met at the far post by commanding centre back Jorge Texeira, meatily headed down but alertly flicked over the bar on the bounce by Smith. McLaughlin replied for the Blues with another example of his potent shooting but unluckily hit the woodwork with Phillips beaten.

As the visitors turned the screw, a neat one-two between Botaka, an effective replacement for the disappointing Ajose, and Konsa opened up the Shrimpers' defence for Fredrik Ulvestad to shoot on the run. Smith reacted smartly with a one-handed parry, which almost paled into insignificance alongside the marvellous save the keeper made to deny Fox. Meeting Aribo's partially cleared corner, the left back popped up on the right side to unleash a blockbuster destined for the top right corner until Smith twisted acrobatically to fingertip it over the bar.

Despite missing two point-blank chances, the first of them aimed too close to Phillips by Will Atkinson, the second headed weakly wide by Marc-Antoine Fortune, in-form Southend seemed to have scraped over the line en route to their fourth consecutive league victory. Their failure to add a second goal came back to haunt them, however, against a side which has made a habit this season of late equalisers. And they reckoned without either the indefatigable Aribo or the sheer exuberance of youth. Neither of them were in a mood to be denied.

It was a long time coming but Karl Robinson finally got off the mark with a win over his recent employers. A bit tardy to be put down to new manager's bounce but better late than never. And the big Scouser's pleasure will be enhanced by the excellence of Ademola Lookman's 38th minute matchwinner, a gem dramatically out of place in this drab context.

Spotting Lookman on the move behind MKD's startled rearguard, Andrew Crofts launched a howitzer of a 30-yard pass which cleared the straining head of Joe Walsh. Lookman's first touch was a whisker too heavy but his momentum and natural speed combined to correct the fleeting error. A cleverly clipped finish eluded David Martin's right hand before nestling sweetly inside the left hand post. It was a goal fashioned by an often unfairly maligned veteran and executed by a youngster to whom all things are possible. It might also be the last scored by Lookman in Charlton's colours.

To be honest -and when are we anything but honest - the Addicks rarely threatened to increase their lead until Nicky Ajose was denied by Martin's legs with just six minutes of this forgettable game remaining. But they defended resolutely with that mulish commitment to play out from the back now mercifully abandoned in favour of pragmatism; though the Buckinghamshire franchise held an edge in possession, the visitors, in the modern parlance, kept risk to a minimum while managing the game competently. It wasn't pretty but the result was everything. As results always are.

There were occasional chances for the labouring hosts, the earliest and best of them created by Sami Carruthers for Nicky Maynard, who dragged his shot wastefully wide. During a dominant opening spell, Dean Bowditch failed to apply a decisive touch to Ben Reeves' low cross at the far post, then Dillon Phillips blocked Carruthers' shot and capably fielded Reeves' follow-up header. Busy Bowditch finished off a hectic fusillade of blocked shots by driving dangerously over the before departing prematurely, unlamented by the Addicks, before the interval.

There wasn't much going on at the other end, meanwhile, although neat interpassing between Josh Magennis and Fredrik Ulvestad made an opening for the former to shoot straight at Martin but until Lookman struck against the run of play. the Addicks were preoccupied with effectiveness at the expense of entertainment.

In central midfield, the revitalised Crofts was a combative influence, as indeed he was last week at Millwall ( I know we agreed not to mention Millwall but they're proving difficult to get over), with Ulvestad's constructive passing providing a useful outlet alongside him. Behind them, Ezri Konsa had his hands full with the tricky Reeves but gradually solved the conundrum; centre backs Jorge Texeira and Patrick Bauer were obdurate stoppers; Morgan Fox stuck to his guns stoutly. Even Roger Johnson popped up as Ajose's replacement in added time to trigger his usual, kneejerk abuse and contributed a couple of handy clearances, much to the chagrin of his enemies.

A dreary second half began with Reeves, set up from the right byline by Maynard, awkwardly dragging wide from near the penalty spot but MKD's efforts were sporadic and increasingly born of frustration. Had Ajose made more of the chance he drove against Martin's legs after confusion involving the keeper and a hesitant colleague, late anxiety, such as it was, would have been avoided. But a win is a win and there haven't been many of them - only six prior to Boxing Day - to celebrate. Now it's off to the seaside on New Years's Eve for a daunting buckets-and-spades clash with Southend United, currently League One's form team. Nice way to round off the Old Year and chalk up a good result building up to the return contest with our mates from SE 16. See what I did there - I neatly avoided mentioning Millwall.